


Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned. - Kylo Ren

by DARLINGDRIVER



Category: Adam Driver - Fandom, Star Wars Legends: Last of The Jedi Series - Jude Watson, Star Wars: The Rise of Kylo Ren (Comics)
Genre: Angel Corruption, Catholic Character, Catholic Guilt, Catholic Imagery, Catholicism, Church Sex, Churches & Cathedrals, Corruption, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Nun, Sex, Song: Take Me To Church (Hozier), Underage - Freeform, praying, student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27491746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DARLINGDRIVER/pseuds/DARLINGDRIVER
Summary: In your last year of catholic school, you had just turned eighteen.When a new priest, Father Kylo, starts to teach at your school, you find yourself slowly becoming corrupt. Funny how even the devil can hide in plain sight among the home of god.(Tw: Catholic imagery, religious guilt, religious settings, sub-con, priest and child rleationships)
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	1. Sick & Perverted

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! this is my first real serious book. The main plot is basically just sex, but I know that's what you guys want anyway ;))

The small chapel that was built into the school was beautiful.

Big wooden beams carved with various interacted designs supported the build, windows of stained glass showing the seven stations of the cross lining the walls. The rising morning sun shone through the colored windows, red and yellow colors shining against the wooden pews. 

It smelt of burning incense, a white marble alter sitting at the front of the small chapel. A long white cloth was skew across it. A large cross hung from the very front of the whole chapel, a figure of Jesus on the cross cut from silver metal. His face was dramatic, a crown of thorns on his head and a small cloth covering his waist. 

The small click of my Maryjane's make small thuds down the chapel carpet, my eyes wandering around the sacred area. I had only been here three days ago, but over that small time, I've had conflicts. I was commuting a mortal sin. 

I walk up to the small booth that was made for confessions. I nervously run my hands over my plaid school uniform skirt, my black high knee socks almost itchy on my thigh thighs. I creak open the small door, sliding into the small wooden seat. 

It was dimly lit except for the sun that shone into the grid of the door window. I clear my throat, my fingers nervously dwindling. 

The small speaking screen slides open, showing that I can start. I pull my blue beaded rosary from my book bag- the one my mother had given me so many years ago. 

I grip the beads, taking a shaky breath. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned." I say quietly. "It has been three days since my last confession." I add. 

The priest on the other side shifts, making the wood bench creak. "Tell me, and I shall see if our god will rid you of your sin." his voice coo's.

It was different voice. Usually it was Father Hux, a small redheaded man just bursting with the joy of our lord. His voice was different, almost deep and dark. It only makes my anxiety spark higher. 

"Well Father, I've been having... _impure_ thoughts. They won't stop, and I've tried all I can to get rid of them. I even started praying the rosary two times a day." I say, ashamed. My cheeks turn red, embarrassed to be telling someone something so personal. 

It's silent for a moment. Through the dark screen, I catch a glimpse of the new priest. His nose is big, long locks of curly inky hair curling around his cheeks and neck. 

"That would be a mortal sin, if you were to act on them, child. Have you acted on them?" he asks, voice almost amused for a moment. 

I look down at my lap shamefully. "No, not exactly Father." I murmur softly. 

"What do you mean, child?" he asks, voice becoming choked for a moment. I screw my eyes shut in embarrassment. 

"I-I've... _touched_ m-myself to the thoughts, f-father." I say, tears almost swelling in my eyes. 

My mother would be ashamed of me if she knew what I was thinking. She'd tell me I'm sick, that I'm some whore. She'd be disgusted in me. _I'm_ disgusted in _me._ I had no idea what was wrong with me. I prayed before every meal, said the rosary before bed, and participated in church. 

It silent for a moment, and I can hear the hitch of the priests breath. He shifts once more, his face now looking at me through the screen. His dark eyes search mine and I swallow thickly. I couldn't make out his face much through the screen, but I could see that he had prominent features and the darkest eyes. 

"Even such... _filthy_ acts can be forgiven if you are genuinely contrite. This sin is common among women your age, child. It's nothing to be ashamed of as long as you seek the guidance of god." he says, voice growing dark at the word filthy. 

"I want to... I want to be rid of this sin, father. I don't want to be sick like this anymore, it's not right." I say, voice cracking as I look away from his shadow with shame. 

"I know child, I know. These thoughts...It's the natural response of your body. It only becomes a mortal sin when you act out on them. Seek guidance from god, and you shall be answered, my child." he says. 

He was right. I knew deep down that it _was_ just the natural response of my body. But I couldn't help but think impure things of my classmates or teachers, or even my neighbor that I see two pews in front of me at church every Sunday. It was like I was corrupting myself.

"Do you prostrate yourself before the Lord our God and beg for his forgiveness?” he asks, eyes searching me through the mesh screen.

"Yes, Father." I say almost over-joyed.

"Then your penance is two Hail Mary's and four Our Father's. God has forgiven your sins, you may go in peace." he says, shifting back into his seat.

"Thank you father. Blessed be." I say quietly, shoulders feeling lighter. 

I peel myself off the small wooden bench, creaking the door open. I take in a deep breath, the air in the sanctuary booth stuffy. I tuck my blue beaded rosary into my book bag once again, making way to one of the front pews.

Getting on one knee and making the sign of the cross, I slide in between the wooden bench, pulling down the kneeling stand. I sink to my knees, my skin sticking to the worn down brown leather. I look up at the large cross that's bolted to the wall, looking up at Jesus. I squeeze my eye's shut, starting my Hail Mary's and Our Father's. 

My eyes snap open when the door of the booth creaks open for a second time, the new priest stepping out. Ashamed of him knowing my darkest secrets, I desperately avoid eye contact and rut my eyes shut again, scared of him shaming me. 

The quiet thud of his leather shoes draw closer to me and my heart quickens. I swallow nervously, still mumming quiet prayers to myself.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee. blessed art thou amongst women, blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, amen." I whisper hurriedly to myself. 

"Patience is a virtue, child." A familiar voice call's. I look behind me, the priest taking seat in the pew behind me. 

He was attractive and young. He had a big nose and rosy full lips, his brown eyes twinkling with an unreadable look. Locks of his hair curl at his face, complimenting the small moles that scattered his cheeks and jaw. His eyes flicker over me, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. 

"Apologies for interrupting your prayer, but I couldn't help but introduce myself. I'm Father Ren, the new priest here." he says, offering out a hand. 

I gawk at the size of his hand. He was a big man, almost two feet taller then I am. Even under his black robes, I can tell his was packed with muscles. I slip my free hand into his, my small size practically engulfed by his large hand as he shakes it softly. 

"Amelia Jones." I say half-hazard, cheeks red with shame. 

I couldn't even begin to explain how embarrassed I was. I just confessed very... _personal_ acts of sins to such an attractive man. He probably thought I was disgusting- a dirty slut. 

"You are a student here, correct?" he asks, furrowing his brows slightly. 

I raise myself off my knees, putting the kneeling stand back up. I slide onto the wooden bench, tucking my rosary back into my book bag. "Yes, but I'm in the last year. I won't be here for much longer, unfortunately." I say with a tight lip smile. 

He scans me for a moment, his top lip curling into a smirk for a split second. "Shame to loose you so soon. I'll be here taking over for Father Hux for a while." he says. 

"What happened to Father Hux?" I ask, anxiety spiking in my voice.

He sighs, eyebrow quirking. "Well, he got himself into a little trouble, but I'm sure he'll be back soon." he says. 

I furrow my brows. "Oh, well, okay then." I say in confusion. 

He scans me again for a moment, eyes lingering on my knee high socks, apart of my uniform. 

"I have to be going, but I hope to see you soon." I say, a small smile growing on my face. 

His eyes flicker up to meet mine, slowly nodding. "I hope so, child." he says. 

I gather my book bag over my shoulder, sliding out of the pew. I glance at the cross for a moment, making the sign of the cross. As my Maryjane's thump down the carpeted isle, Father Ren calls out after me. 

"Amelia?" he says, now standing in the middle of the isle. His hands are clasped behind his back. 

"Yes, Father?" I ask, looking over my shoulder.

"Don't feel shame for things you cannot control. Seek guidance and repent." he says, referencing my confession. My knees buckle and my cheeks turn a crimson red.

"Yes, Father." I say lowly, turning and pushing past the large wooden doors of the chapel. 

Whoever Father Ren was, I knew one thing. He made me feel accepted in a way a priest never had. Instead of shaming me for my dirty sins, like any other priest would, he accepted me for them, told me that it was okay. I had never had a priest tell me that such shameful sins were _okay._

Dinner had been forceful, like usual. 

My father was in a mood again. I had gone home after my little confession adventure, going straight to make dinner. I even prayed a few Hail Mary's while peeling the potatoes, hoping that the impure thoughts wouldn't come back once I fell asleep again. 

It was silent at the table. He looked at me a few times, purely just mere glances. He loaded his plate, ate his food in silence, and left the plate at the table for me to clean. It was like ever since mother had died, I was his new slave. It had been three years. 

Three years since that night when my mother took her own life. My father had come home from work- long before I was home from school- where he found her hanging in the closet. The cops had down up to my school and taken me out for the rest of the day. 

I think my father was ashamed of her for taking her own life. Instead of mourning over the loss of his wife, his went on rampages on how she'd go to hell for what she had done. And it was true. Suicide was a great sin in the catholic religion, and she would be sent to hell for it. 

I didn't believe it though. I didn't want to believe that she was in hell, internally suffering for eons on end. I liked to think that she was suffering, and she needed peace. I think that she's probably up in heaven, being comfort by god for the suffering she endured in her life. She suffered a silent battle, one that she was too cared to get help for. 

It was after cleaning the dishes and doing my daily chores, that the thoughts returned as I fell into my sleep. It was flashes of men I had been friends with. 

The first was my classmate, Finn. He was tall and had ebony skin. Sometimes he would ask to borrow a pencil, or laughed at my jokes when I'd make the odd one. We weren't friends, but we knew each other. I could just imagine kissing his big lips, his hands pulling me against him, body's flushed against each other. 

Or Poe, my neighbor I see in church every Sunday. I could feel his lips travelling down my neck, sucking, leaving his mark on me. His hands would run down my body, gripping and kneading at my thighs thighs. He would trail kisses along my bare stomach, praising me for being a good girl. 

And Father Ren. He would lay me across the chapel alter, the cool marble against my bare skin. He would run his thick fingers through my wet folds, the pad of his finger teasing my clit. He would latch his flush and full lips around my nipple, suckling and nibbling. He would pin my arms, forcing his thick cock into my tight and virgin cunt. I would moan and whine, his big size splitting me open. 

_No._

I couldn't think any of these things, about any of these boys, especially Father Ren. He was my priest for god's sake. I was sick, truly sick. I was disgusting for wanting such a man to fuck me in such a holy and scared place. But I _wanted_ it _so_ bad. 

My hand slips into my silky night shorts, my breath hitching. My eyes flicker to my bedroom door, checking that it's closed. I relax, ignoring any part of me screaming to stop. I needed a release, to touch myself. It seemed like the only way to rid of my dirty thoughts. 

I trail my finger along my slit, bucking my hips as it grazes over my clit. I let out a breathy moan, almost a whisper, in weak attempt of my father not hearing me. I screw my eyes shut, adding pressure onto my clit. I start to trace small circles, my mouth falling open into a pleasurable "O" shape. 

I could imagine Father Ren coming into my side of the small confession booth, forcing me against the wooden bench. He would bend his head down, oh too big for the small closet sized space. He would take his hard cock out from his robes, stuffing my mouth full of his thick cock. I would moan around his cock, his fingers tugging at my hair. He would tell me I'm a good girl, taking his cock so well.

I let out a small and airy gasp, bucking my hips again. My heart quickens in my chest, breathing becoming sporadic. My chest feels tight, my brows pulled in concentration as I chase my orgasm. I was _so_ close, only if he was really here to help me. 

Various explicated images run through my head, sending me over age. I let out a loud gasp, my free hand quickly clamping over my mouth. My legs start shake, eyes wide and brows pulled as my orgasm washes over me. I can feel my cum collect on my fingers, my chest convulsing. It was like a rollercoaster, and It just went to the highest peak of the ride and then crashed down. 

When I come down, I slip my fingers out of my sleeping shorts and my body relaxes back. I stare at my bedroom ceiling, sighing. I couldn't help but let tears swell in my eyes, shame washing over me. 

I was sick. Not even god could cure me of my sick and slutty tendencies. _It's natural_ Father Ren told me, _Don't be ashamed of something you can't control_ He said. 

Maybe he was right, maybe he wasn't. All I knew is that I needed help, and I couldn't continue these whore-ish acts. I needed to be disciplined for my slutty actions. 

I was sick and perverted. 


	2. The Devil & Dangerous Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! We have some more Amelia and Kylo content ;)))
> 
> Just wanted to say, read this book with caution. As someone who comes from a catholic upbringing, there are many examples of priests having non-consensual sex with younger kids of the church. It may be dub-con at some points, but Amelia is legally eighteen and consenting!

Sitting through Sunday mass had almost been insufferable. 

Father Ren, of course, had been hosting the mass this Sunday since Father Hux was away. 

My mind started racing when his eyes would flicker to me during his reading, or he would smile at me when he was leading a prayer. He had looked almost criminal too- a piece of crimson red cloth hanging around his neck, on top of his black robes. The red was in representation of Good Friday, which had happened two day prior. 

When it came time to get communion, my heart sank into my good Sunday shoes. I had worn my Sunday best, per usual. The outfit contained a flowy olive green skirt, black flats, a black t-shirt and black cardigan. My hair laid casually on my shoulder, only a thin layer of makeup on my face. My mother used to say that it was better to embrace the beauty god gave me then cover it up with makeup like the other girls. 

She was right. It wasn't like I had much to cover up anyway. I had big beautiful blue eyes, paired with brown coppery toned hair, full lips and high cheekbones. My skin was milky pale, and thankfully, I had never gotten much acne in my early teenage years.

Formed in a line, I stand anxiously as the line moves closer and closer to Father Ren, who hands out communion. I can hear the blood rushing in my ear, flashbacks of last nights activities playing through my mind. 

How could I look him in the eye knowing the dirty thoughts I thought of him and cummed to?

I almost stumble in front of him when It's my turn for communion. He looks down at me, his one eyebrow raising slightly. His eyes scan me, his thick fingers picking up a piece of thin and round communion from the gold tray. 

He raises his palm over my head, my big eyes looking up at him. He looked at me with a playful smirk, wetting his lips for a moment. 

"I am the living bread which came down from heaven. If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever; and the bread that I will give, is my flesh, for the life of the world." he recites, eyes searching me. 

"Amen." I murmur. I stick my tongue out of my mouth, laying it flat out for him. 

He takes the bread, placing it on my tongue. My cheeks turn bright pink when his fingers linger on my tongue for a moment too long. 

I could imagine the way he'd stuff his fingers in my mouth, his other hand pumping in and out of my cunt as he try's to muffle my moans. I quickly swallow the bread, giving him a small nod and moving back down the aisle. I could feel his burning gaze following me the whole time. 

I had spent the rest of mass staring at me feet or catching quick glances of him when he wasn't looking at me. When we all sang a final psalm, people filed out of the church. A few people stayed behind, chatting with other friends and neighbors. 

Had come alone, I grab my small over the shoulder bag, standing up. I brush my skirt down and look up at the cross one last time. I sigh doubtfully, making my way down the aisle. 

"Amelia?" A familiar male voice coo's. 

I raise my head, Father Ren standing at the back of the church near the doors. His robes were gone and I could fully see his body. He was dressed in a short sleeve back button up, the fabric practically splitting at how big his muscles were. He looked like he could be a wrestler or something like that.

A white collar sits under the tongues of the button up, fastened under his large adam's apple. He had muscled thighs, his black slacks hugging his skin tightly. He was built like a fridge - tall, strong, and attention drawing. 

I wasn't the only one who thought this, clearly. The other women of the church- as old as 70 and young as 13- were swooning over him. Some shamelessly flirted with him before mass, while others shared whispers with the other women on how hot he was. 

"Oh, hello Father Ren." I say, managing a weak and small smile. 

He scans me, a small smirk growing on his top lip. "How have you been lately? Have you been repenting?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

My cheeks turn a crimson red. I had almost forgotten. Instead of praying to god for guidance, I was touching myself like a whore to the thought of my own church's priest. I was sick, _oh so sick._

"W-Well, something like that, Father." I say, nervously looking down at my shoes.

He looks at me for a moment, tilting his head. He steps closer to me, the toe of his leather shoes brushing against my flats. He lowers his lips near my ear, breath hot on my neck. He smelled like cedarwood cologne and mint toothpaste. 

"You know child, lying to your Father is a sin." he says, voice a deep hush. 

I turn my head to look at him, eyes wide. I had must have been a worse liar then I thought I was. I swallow a lump in my throat. 

"It's been a struggle, Father. I'm trying though, I really am." I say quietly, almost a mumble. 

He pulls away, eyes boring holes into me. He lets out a long exhale, smiling after a moment. "Would you like to have another confession?" he asks, brows furrowed. 

I open and close my mouth, eyes flickering towards the large cross on the wall. I let my eyes linger on the figure of Jesus, slowly nodding. "If you think it will help Father, yes." I say after a quiet moment. 

The church had emptied now. it was just him and I in the small chapel. He starts to walk, urging me to follow him. We walk up to the confession booth. He gives me a re-assuring nod before we both slide into our own sides. 

The sitting area was almost too small now. It was the size of a photo booth, if even. I wasn't claustrophobic, but it was all too cramped for my large amount of anxiety. My loud breathing practically echoed off the walls, the air stuffy. The back of my thighs stuck to the wood bench.

The side window slides open and my breath catches in my throat. I can see the outline of Father Ren's face through the woven netting. He was looking at me, eyes searching my nervous state.

"Tell me Amelia, what have you done?" he says, voice almost dark.

I take in a deep breath, screwing my eyes shut in mortification. 

"I d-did it again, Father." I admit lowly.

"Done what again, child?" he asks, voice almost teasing.

"Touched myself. I'm so sorry father... I j-just couldn't...I didn't mean to, the urge was just too strong." I say, voice cracking. 

He makes a _tsk tsk_ sound. It was almost like he was ashamed in me. Or maybe he was just appalled by my stubbornness. Probably both.

"And what to?" he asks. 

"Pardon, Father?" I ask, brows furrowed.

"What were you thinking of when you touched yourself?" he asks, voice stern and more clear.

On any other occasion, this question may have seemed creepy and an invasion of privacy. But I believed that he was genuinely curious, maybe he even wanted to put an end to whatever I was thinking of to stop any further conflicts. I trusted him, for whatever reason. But I was mortified. How could I tell him that I was thinking of him?

"I-I-I can't say, Father..." I choke out, looking away from his shadow through the screen. 

He sighs in frustration. "God cannot forgive you for your sins if you do not admit to them, Amelia. Now tell me, what were you thinking of while touching yourself?" he says, voice growing stern and cold. 

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to not sob out from shame. "M-my classmate Finn." I manage out.

A beat. "And?" he adds.

"And Poe, the boy from church." I say, voice getting quieter.

"And?" he asks again, voice edging me on. 

A long silence. 

"You, F-father." I squeak out, voice almost a whisper. 

He's quiet. He's rustles around, the door on his side creaking open. My shoulders sink, a few tears rolling down my cheeks. He probably thought I was disgusting, vile, a pervert. He probably never wanted to see me again. I probably made him physically sick. 

And suddenly, the door to my side swings open. He stands there, looking down at me. His eyes are hungry, searching me. He furrows his brows slightly. My hands cover my face, my tears wetting the palms of my head. My shoulders shake as I let out violent and quiet sobs. 

"I-i'm so sorry Father, I-I'm so sick. I'm really fucking sick, I'm disgusting." I choke out, burying my head into my hands more. 

I gather my purse, stepping out. I try to push past the tall man, but it's simply impossible. His large hand grabs my shoulder firmly, stopping me in my place.

He looks down at me, searching. My stomach churns at the thought of what he thinks of me. I can't help but let his touch feel like fire on my skin. My eyes flicker to his hands, tears still rolling down my cheeks. 

"Father?" I squeak out quietly, locking eyes with him. 

It was like he had a million emotions swimming in his dark brown eyes. His pupils were blown wide, looking down at me. A piece of his inky hair had fallen in front of his forehead. His chest rose and fell quickly, his nostrils flaring every so slightly as he takes in deep breaths. 

He opens and closes his mouth, looking around the empty church for a moment. Before I can say anything else, he lowers his lips to mine. 

The minute his lips connect to mine, my heart explodes in my chest. Fireworks go off in my stomach, symphonies play behind my ears, and my head feels like dizzy. His breath tasted like mint toothpaste. He smelled manly. I just wanted him to pin against the wall and fuck me till no tomorrow. 

I knew I shouldn't have been kissing him. It was all wrong. A grown man- a _priest_ \- shouldn't be kissing an eighteen year old girl. Not only was it morally wrong, it was a huge sin the catholic faith. Father Ren could loose his job for kissing me.

When you become a priest, you commit yourself to god for the rest of your life. You can't marry, or have wife's or girlfriends, and you can't have children. You fully block yourself off from romantic feelings and tendencies. 

But I had an itching feeling that Father Ren wasn't like that. I had a suspicion that he didn't like to be told what to do, that he was dominant. Father Ren didn't play by the rules, he _made_ the rules.

His soft and flush lips moves against mine, our tongues dancing. His hand moves off my shoulder, his two big palms gripping my hips. He pulls me taught against him, the heat of his large body showering over me. He was a lot taller than me, having to duck down an inch or two to even reach my lips. 

I wanted to stand there forever, my lips against his. Seemingly, the kiss answered all and none of my questions all at the same time. Truly, I had no idea why he was kissing me, and although it was wrong, It felt so right. It felt _oh so right._

He swiftly pulls away, gasping for a breath of air. His eyes peer into mine, practically reading my soul. "Amelia..." he says, voice trailing off. 

I look down at my feet in embarrassment, tears dried to my cheeks. I had once felt sick and vile for my thoughts about him, but now it felt right, like I was meant to feel such a way about an older man. 

"This shouldn't happen." I say quietly, pulling myself off of his body and out of his grip. 

He furrows his brows at me, face quickly overcoming with a dark look. His eyes search for a moment, his head slowly shaking. 

I swallow thickly, running my hand over my tear dried cheeks. "This s-shouldn't happen." I say again, more to myself. 

My body was riddled with anxiety, my hands shaking. My father would beat me if he knew what I had done. I had committed a sin. I was dirty. The worst part is, not even a priest can help me, because I _kissed_ the priest. 

"Amelia, this is your natural response, you shouldn't feel ashamed-" he begins.

"No, no Father. This is isn't right. I can't do this. T-this isn't right." I say, shaking my head profusely. 

I turn on my heel, my chest growing tight. It felt like I was going to puke, I was so anxious. He hadn't tried to stop me, either. He watched me hurriedly walk out of the chapel. 

Kylo knew he'd get you. One can only run from their own fears for so long before they become the fear. He knew you wouldn't be able to stop thinking about him, that you'd do dirty things to the thought of him. He got drunk off of it. 

He fed off your anxiety, _ate it up._ It was like his own personal drug. He loved knowing he could make you commit such dirty sins. 

He was the devil in disguise, working in the own house of god. 

I had spent the night crying, shaming myself for what I had done. 

It was only when I started praying for the millionth time that night when my father burst in through the door. He reeked of alcohol, his stance lanky and steps stumbling. 

"Where were you today?" His voice booms, looking down at me on my knees at the end of my bed, blue beaded rosary in hand.

I quickly stand up, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I was with Father Ren, the new priest, after church." I honestly admit.

He glares his eyes at me. "Why were you spending time alone with the priest?" he asks, anger seeping from every pore. 

I open and close my mouth. It was a sin to lie to your parents, but I could not admit what I had done for the life of me. "I was at confession." I say, only half lying. 

He leans back on his feet, letting out a deep breath from his nose. He scans me up and down like he's disgusted in me. He turns around, scoffing, and leaving. He slams my door shut, leaving me to wince and jump out of my skin. 

My stomach churns. He hadn't known what I had done with Father Ren, but just the pure look of disgust on his face made tears swell in my eyes. 

Times like these were always the hardest. It always felt so dark. It felt like I was all alone, and everyone ignored me. My own father hated me, my mother was dead, and I was commuting acts so sick that not even the devil wanted me. I just wanted to belong, to be cared for, to be loved. 

I lay the blue beaded rosary on my nightstand, picking up my phone. I swallow thickly as I turn it on, scrolling through my phone contacts.

If I had already acted on so many sins, why stop now? It wasn't like my father cared, or that even my dead mother cared. 

If I wanted to be bad, I knew exactly who to contact. Rey.

She was a rebel. I considered her a friend, but I would never tell anyone that. She was always getting in trouble for hiking her uniform skirt up too high and wearing thick black eyeliner. I had heard crazy stories of stuff she had done- smoking weed, skinny dipping, running away from home. Her parents forced her to the school because she was gay. 

I never understood people who got god involved with things he wasn't involved in. I used religion as something to lean onto for support, but some used it to punish others. I knew that whatever Rey's parents had done to her caused a lot of damage. She broken, but hid it with her cover of being a strong rebel. 

The phone rings as I press it to my ear. My heart sat in my throat. 

"What's up bitch." her voice rings, paired with smacking of her pink bubblegum. 

I look around my room, dimly lit by my small desk lamp. I couldn't believe what I was doing. But lately, I seemed to be doing a lot of things that were out of character.

"Do you have any weed?" I ask quietly, voice an ashamed whisper. 

She laughs for a long moment. "Are you pulling my fucking leg?" she asks. 

"No, Rey. I'm serious." I say after a moment, lips pressed into a thin line. 

She makes a _shesh_ sound into the phone. "Well, I in fact do. Welcome to the dark side, Amelia." She laughs again. 

I was going to hell.


	3. Perverted & Vile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY SOME PORN. YOU HAVE BEEN FED.

Lord have mercy on me.

Mass had been hell. I kept avoiding eye contact with Father Ren, but I could feel him looking at me the whole time. It's like he burned holes into the back of my head.

As mass ends, people file out. I hurriedly move down the aisle, stopping when I walk past a group of old church ladies. They were all dressed into their retro best Sunday outfits.

"I can't believe Father Hux would do such a thing." One of the older ladies says, shaking her head. 

"It's sick, really. He needs help from god. He's truly vile." Another agrees.

I walk up to the small group of ladies, a small smile on my face. "Sorry to butt in, but I couldn't help but overhear you talking about Father Hux. What happened to him?" I ask. 

The group parts a little, letting me join them. Some ladies hold their own bibles, other holding purses. One of them, Mrs.Flo who lives down the street from me, shakes her head in disappointment. 

"Oh sweetie, it's truly sick. It's a rumor, but I heard that he had some... _mishaps_ with a little boy in the younger grade of your school." She says.

I can feel my stomach drop. It was like any good assumption and impression I had of Hux died. It made me physically sick to think of what such a nice man could do to someone so young. 

"w-what do you mean?" I ask. 

Flo shares a few looks with the other ladies. "He was sexually abusing the child, Amelia." she says, voice almost a whisper. 

The color drops from my face. I remember only a few days ago when I first met Father Ren. and how he told me Father Hux had gotten into some "trouble". I didn't know what kind of trouble at the time, but I figured it was anything but this. 

I trusted Father Hux. He heard and forgave my sins during confession, he gave me my bread during communion, I even had him over for dinner once. I trusted a sick and vile man. I hadn't heard of anything from the kids at school about the boy, but I also wasn't one to listen to rumors. 

"I-I...That's..." I begin, shaking my head. I couldn't even begin to form words. 

I could only imagine what the boy had gone through. His own priest, someone he _trusted_ to lead his faith, being manipulated into letting Father Hux using him in whatever way he pleased. I could imagine the confusion on the young boy's face, the way he pleaded Father Hux to stop. 

"What's the boys name?" I muster out. 

"Poe Dameron, I think." Flo says. 

Poe Dameron. The boy I had impure thoughts about before. I didn't imagine that it would be Poe out of all people. I didn't know him personally, but I saw in church from time to time. He was also Finn's best friend, my classmate. 

"We should get going, I got a hair appointment in an hour." Flo says to the other ladies. They all agree and split off, leaving me alone in the church. Once they leave, I'm left alone in the chapel with Father Ren again. 

I turn on my heel, looking at him. He's packing up the alter, zooming back and forth from different places while putting things away. Anger bubbles in my stomach, looking at him. 

I storm down the aisle, my shoes thudding against the carpet. I stand in front of the alter. His eyes slowly move up to look at me, brows furrowing. He smirks for a moment. 

"Hello, Amelia." He says, voice almost smug.

I ball my fists at my side. "Why didn't you tell what Father Hux had done?" I hiss, nostrils flaring.

His smug grin drops. He stops what he's doing, placing his hands on either side of the alter. He looks at the ground for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line as he thinks for a moment.

"You shouldn't know about that." he decides. 

"Why not? You didn't want me knowing that I trusted a _pervert?_ That I trusted a sick and vile man to lead me in my faith?" I inquire, voice angry. 

He comes around the alter, stepping down two steps and standing not even three inches away from me. His breath is hot on my face, the smell of his cologne burning my nostrils. "It is none of your concern, child." he says. 

I raise my chin, standing a little higher. "I'm not a stupid little kid, Father. He was a big part of my life, I have a right to know what happened. I was friends with the boy he-" I begin, cut off by him.

"I will speak no further on this topic." he says, turning his back to me. 

"Father!" I exclaim, voice echoing off the small chapel walls.

He stops, back still turned to me. He knew I was pleading with him. I still wasn't happy with him after the stunt he pulled with the kiss, but I needed to know. I also needed to speak to Poe. I couldn't be left in the dark like this. My life was already crumbling, and I couldn't let secrets be kept from me. 

"Please, Father." I beg, voice almost a hush whisper. 

He turns to me, scanning me. He bites the inside of his cheek for a moment, eyes hard. He reaches out, firmly grabbing my arm. Not protesting, I let him lead me into one of the rooms that connected to the chapel, meant to store seasonal items like candles and statues. 

It smelled heavily of dust and jasmine scented candles. The air was stuffy and the only form of light was the small light bulb hanging in the middle of the room. He shuts the door, his back against it. I look around the small storage room with wide eyes. 

"Father, please, I need you to just... _explain_ it all to me. My life...it's such a _mess_ right now." I ask, eyes glued to the floor, 

" _I'm_ a mess." I add, voice almost a whisper now. 

He stills for a moment. He finally lets out a sigh, stepping towards me. He hooks a finger under my chin, lifting it up so my eyes meet his. The brown orbs swim in my own, an unreadable a look dancing in them. 

He was like that. I could never tell what he was thinking, or what he was trying to do. He was like a chapter book with no words. I _wanted_ to know more about him. I wanted to figure him out, solve every missing piece to the puzzle. 

I wanted to know why he was interested in _me,_ a boring and average school girl. 

"I know Amelia, I know. Do you trust me?" he says, voice deep. He wets his pink flushed lips. 

I search his eyes. I shouldn't trust him, I should leave, turn and go home. But part of me wanted to be in this small storage closet, his lips speaking my name. I wanted to devote myself to him, let him devour every part of me. 

I wanted his lips on mine again.

"Yes." I whisper, looking up at with big and soft eyes.

He hesitates for a moment. The finger he has hooked under my jaw spreads into his whole hand, his large palm gripping my throat. His lips linger over mine, his breathing hitched. I swallow a lump in my throat, not able to form any words. 

He finally brings his lips to mine, quickly overpowering me. 

His lips are hard and fast against mine, kissing me like it's the last thing he'll ever do. A hint of his morning coffee lingers on his tongue as it dances with mine, our lips coated in a thin layer of saliva. 

His hand around my throat tightens, and he spins me around. He walks me back a few steps until my back is being pressed up against the door. My hands grip at his large forearms, trying to hold on for dear life as I feel myself slipping and giving in to his touch. 

His dark and curly hair brushes against my face, tickling it. His body pressed flat against mine, the curves of our body fitting together like puzzle pieces. 

Kissing him felt right. I knew it was wrong, at the back of my mind, but my body knew it was right, My lips knew they belonged against his. Any thought or regrets I had the nights before were now gone, and I was fully indulging myself in him.

His lips hungrily move down my jaw, attaching to my neck. A tingly sensation runs over me, my hands fisting the fabric of his robes. A small gasp leaves my mouth, and I roll my head to the side to give him better access.

His lips on my neck set my nerves on fire. It was like it tickled, but in the best way possible. Every kiss sent tingles straight to my cunt, making me clench my thighs. The stuffy and small storage closet quickly became even smaller, the air growing hot. 

"F-father, _oh,_ Father." I choke out, eyes fluttered closed in pleasure. 

He moves his lips to my ear, both hands on each side of my neck now. His teeth nibble my ear lobe, pulling it taught for a moment. 

"Kylo." he says. 

"W-what?" I ask. 

"Kylo. That's my name." He whispers into my ear, hands trailing down my neck softly, sending shivers down my spine. 

_Kylo. Kylo Ren._ It fit him perfectly. 

His hands move down to my waist, fists balling up the sides of my plaid skirt. He gripped onto me like he was slipping away. He pulls his lips away from my neck, nose brushing against mine. The dim lighting of the storage room made a small halo glow behind him. Shadows casted across one side of his face, defining his large features.

"Are you a virgin, Amelia?" he asks. His voice was inky and dark, a devilish eyes sparking in his eyes. 

I swallow, nodding slowly. He makes a _tsk tsk_ sound, sighing. 

"My little virgin Mary." he says, fingers stroking my face.

This was wrong on so many levels. But I loved it. 

He leans into my ear, dropping his voice to a husky grunt. "Can I make you feel good? I promise, it'll be okay. Just relax." he says. 

The way he spoke to me- it was like he was okay with what was happening. Any other person would call me a dirty, vile, disgusting, whore. But he made me feel okay about all of it, like it was normal. He made me feel like I was safe.

I whimper when his hands pull away, pulling away his robes. He pulls the heavy and thick fabric off his shoulders, setting it down on the table. As he pulls his tassel off, he lifts up his arms, exposing a small trail of hair, leading down into the waistband of his black slacks. His black button up almost tore at how tight it hugged his big arms.

He places a soft kiss to my lips, fingers toying with the hem of my skirt. "I need to hear you say it. Say that you want me to make you feel good." he says between kisses.

I whine again. "P-please, Fa-Kylo." I correct. 

I felt less dirty calling him by his name. Saying his name, it made things feel normal, just two adults having sex. But calling him Father Ren, it made me feel ashamed, like I was dirty, a disgrace to god. 

"Good girl." he murmurs. 

I watch him in anticipation, his large height sinking to his knees. My anxiety suddenly spikes, a million thoughts of panic and insecurity running a course through me. He looks up at me from his knees, brown eyes searching mine. I struggle to gain my breath.

"K-k-kylo, I haven't- I've never, I didn't sh-" I begin, shaking my head.

He gives me a small smile, placing a soft kiss to my exposed and bare knee. His hands softly hold my calf's. "It's okay, I'll go slow. I won't hurt you, child." he murmurs against my knee. 

I relax my shoulders, thickly swallowing. He was right. He was going to make me feel good. He was going to touch me, just like I had done to myself many nights over and over again. 

His thick fingers find the waist of my plaid skirt, slowly pulling down the zipper on the side of my hip. My breathing is shallow as he slowly brings the fabric down my thick thighs, letting it pool at my black Maryjane's. He taps my ankles and I step out of the skirt, abandoning it to the side.

My legs are bare except for the plain black panties that hug my hips. He looks up at me, locking eyes, as he runs the tip of his nose softly up my thigh. His hands travel up the back of my thighs, sending tingling sensations down to my toes. The pads of his finger hook around the waistband of my panties, just above my ass. 

I give him a small nod, giving him the go-ahead to take them off. He kisses my inner thigh, starting to pull them down. Under the dim light, I can see the hungry look in his eyes. The smell of need practically dripped from his pores.

And I noticed something else. Just past my knees, I could an outline in the front of his trousers. He was _hard._

I had only seen a man hard once. I was in class, freshman year of high school. I happened to look over and notice that the boy beside me was hard and aroused, eyeing some girl in my class that had rode up her skirt and pranced around the classroom like a whore, using the excuse of her pencil breaking to show off her legs and ass. 

It made a small smile creep on my face at the fact that he got hard over me. He had actually felt aroused by my body, turned on, wanting to get more and more of me. It was an ego trip, but also turned me on just as much as he was. 

He pulls the underwear down my thighs, exposing my cunt. I let out a small gasp, and my underwear pools at my ankles. I don't bother stepping out of them, his lips already attacking me. 

He trails kisses along my knees, up my thighs, and on my lower belly. He lifts a finger to the front of my thigh, tracing small circles closer and closer to my cunt. 

"I'm going to make you feel better, all better." he coo's quietly. 

I let out a loud gasp when his fingers run along my slit. It felt _so_ good. It felt so much different then when I did it. 

"Do you like that?" he asks, a large grin on his face. 

"Y-ye-" I begin, moaning over my words when his finger presses down on my clit. 

He lets out a small groan, sucking in a sharp breath. "Fuck, you're so wet. Virgins always get _so_ wet." he murmur's to himself. 

I try to muffle my moans as his fingers starts to stroke my clit. My body twitched at time, thighs clamping at others. I roll my head back against the door, my mind full and empty at the same time. 

I screw my eyes shut, my hand flying to hold onto his wrist. It only drives him to work his fingers faster, drawing small and quick circles around my engorged clit. I could feel the tendons in his hands flexing with each movement, the veins scattered across his arms pumping with blood hard. 

"O- f-fuck, _oh,_ K-kylo, _Jesus Christ."_ I moan, using god's name in vein.

"He can't hear you." Kylo teases, tone smug. 

Wet noises fill the small storage closet. The air's sticky, hot, hard to breathe in. I could hear short pants come from Kylo, his cock hard as stone. He could hear the blood rushing to his ears, practically.

He had wanted you for so long. Ever since he met you after confession, he fisted his cock _raw_ to the thought of you. He could imagine the way you tasted, the way you moaned, the way you gasped for him to stop. It was all too much.

I let out a loud choke when something wet connects to my cunt. M head snaps down, and his lips are on my clit. His mouth was hot and wet, tongue running along my folds. I almost cummed at the sight of him- on his knees, face buried in my cunt. It was so much better then I imagined. 

"Kylo!" I half-shout, his tongue flicking over my large clit.

I buck my hips onto his face, tears swelling in my eyes. It just felt so fucking good. 

He groans onto my clit, sending vibrations through my cunt. Both of my hands fly down, gripping onto his hair. I pull and tug at the inky locks, head thrashing to the side. I bury my mouth into my shoulder, trying to silence my moans.

A familiar feeling builds in my stomach, my chest getting tight. My thighs clench, my breathing coming in shallow and short pants, like a dog. My eyes snap open and all I can do I stare into the dim lightbulb, my muscles starting to twitch and shake. 

I arch my back off the door, brows pulled and jaw hanging open, a thin layer of sweat on my forehead. He continues to drill his tongue against my clit, large nose buried deep into my mound. My orgasm hits me _hard_ , making my body spasm and then still. 

White flashes behind my eyes, airy moans leaving my throat. A string of _ohyes, fuck,_ and _ohgods_ leave my lips. 

He laps at my clit through my orgasm, licking up every last drop of my cum that coats his chin and lips. His hands gripped onto my hips so hard I was sure there'd be bruises the next morning. 

He finally pulls away when I whine from over sensitivity. He looks up at me, and I realize how beautiful he is.

His hair was now messy, strands of curly inky hair fallen over his eyes. His lips and chin glistened with my juices, brown eyes sparkling with an evil look. His flush and full pink lips were turned into a smirk at the corners, dimples on his cheeks.

He was a horny mess. His chest rose and fell quickly, breathing rapid. So much blood had rushed to his dick he was sure his veins had been sucked dry. 

My body still twitches from after shocks as he rises to his full height, towering over me in all his glory once again. He makes a show of raising his hand to his chin, wiping the slick off his mouth slowly. He takes his hand away, rotating it as he studies my cum on his hand in the dim light. 

He brings it to his mouth, slowly licking it up. 

"Oh fuck..." I whisper, eyes wide and throat tight. 

He leans in towards me again, lips near my ear. "You taste _so_ fucking good. Did I make you feel good?" he asks. 

"Y-yes, Kylo." I manage out, voice hoarse and throat dry. 

He smirks, placing a few kisses on my neck. "You did so good, I'm so proud of you." he whispers after a moment. 

"I was?" I ask.

"You were. Such a good girl for me." he says, in a matter-of-fact tone. 

He squats down for a moment, bringing my soaked panties up my thighs again. I smile up at him, brain foggy. He leans over, picking my skirt up off the creaky wooden floor. 

"I hope to see you at confession tomorrow, child. You have committed some _very_ dirty sins." he taunts, raising an eyebrow. 

He hands me a skirt, and I step into it, zipping it up. I smooth over my appearance, my mind at peace for once. 

It was like I wasn't even registering the fact that I had just somewhat lost my virginty, even worse, to my own priest. I had daydreamed about it for so long, but I didn;t think it would actually happen. For some reason, I didn't feel dirty or like a whore. I felt at peace, like I was meant to lose it to Kylo. It was like I was at a different level with Kylo now. He wasn't just my priest anymore, he was something else. What he was, I'm not sure, but what I do know is that I want more. 

I _need_ more. 

"Yes, Father." I say lowly. 


	4. Stalkers & Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small TW for sexual abuse!

The halls were bustling.

The school bell had rung only moments ago- signaling the end of the day. I didn't even stop at my locker to collect my textbooks. I was more busy looking for someone.

Poe Dameron.

I wasn't sure what I was going to say. I wanted to know if it was true or not. I needed him to tell me that I wasn't in some sick dream. I needed to see the pain in his eyes, the brokenness in his voice- then I'd know it was all real. 

The halls were swarmed with teenagers. We all looked same, dressed in the school uniform. The only difference between us all was our faces and our sins. 

I, for one, knew nobody had committed a sin like mine. Only 48 hours earlier, I was having sex with my priest in a storage closet, a statue of baby Jesus staring back at me in shame. And the worst part was, I didn't feel guilty for it. In fact, I wanted more.

I scan over the sea of students, lips pressed into a thin line. I hold the straps of my book bag, plaid skirt swaying, Maryjane's thudding against the tiled floor. 

And in the sea of hormones, I spotted a familiar boy. 

Anxiety pumping through my veins, I push past some students. Poe stands at his locker, head bowed low to avoid attention. Ear buds are popped into his ears, a thin white wire hanging from them. He looked like usually did, black hair with a few grey strands and dark eyes. His skin was a deep tan and he had high cheekbones. 

Except he didn't look like him at all. As I drew closer to him, I started to notice the bleak in him. His eyes were dull, the spark of life gone. His skin seemed duller, not glowing anymore. He carried himself like his shoulders were heavy. Dark purple bags sat under his eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Poe?" I ask, approaching his locker.

He stuffs textbooks and loose papers into his backpack. His eyes flicker up to mine. He slowly lifts a finger to his ear, hooking his ear bud out of his ear. He scans me, slowly shutting his locker. 

"Hi. Do you need something?" he asks, brows furrowed.

He stood a few inches taller than me. He wasn't lanky, but he wasn't buff. He looked like the average seventeen year old. 

I look at my feet for a moment, my book bag suddenly twenty pounds heavier. "Um, yeah. Do you have a minute?" I ask, looking around the busy hall. 

"No. Not really. I have to go home." he says, about to put his ear bud back in his ear.

"Please, Poe." I say quickly, putting a hand out. "I just need a moment." I add, eyes pleading. 

He sighs, scanning the hall for a moment. He slings his backpack over his shoulders. "Fine." He says, almost annoyed. 

We start to walk down the hall, Poe always walking a step or two ahead of me. Maybe what I was doing was an invasion of privacy, but then again. this was a public problem now. 

As we make out way outside. he steps to the side. He leans against the brick wall, tugging his ear buds out of his ear. I stand in front of him, awkwardly shifting my weight between each foot. He scans me, boring holes into my head. 

"I know what you want to talk to me about." He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

I look up at him, the wind blowing through my hair slightly. I furrow my brows. "You do?" I ask.

He scoffs. "You know, I'm not fucking stupid. Everyone has been fucking bugging me lately, they won't leave me alone. The only reason I gave you the time of day is because...I don't know. I used to see you in church and you'd smile at me. You were the only thing I looked forward to going to that hell hole." he admits. 

I still remember it like it was yesterday. I hadn't noticed is abs cense in church recently, though. I would smile at him from across the pew, or wave to him as we walked into the chapel. It was merely because I had felt guilty about the things I thought about him at night though. 

"Is...Is it true?" I ask lowly.

He silent for a long while. He looks off into the distance, like he's watching something. I could tell he was thinking. And when I looked into his eyes, I already knew that answer. He had that look in his eyes, the broken look. 

He finally bows his head, staring at his shoes, nodding. "Yeah." he says, voice almost a whisper,

My heart drops into my stomach. Father Hux _was_ a pervert. 

"What did he do to you, Poe?" I ask, shaking my head with wide eyes. 

He looks up at me, face growing cold. "Why do _you_ care?" he asks in defense. 

I furrow my brows. "Because I _care_ , Poe." I protest. 

He laughs. "You don't care, you just want to know all the juicy details so you can tell everyone else. You've never made an attempt to talk to me before, but now suddenly that our fucking priest touches me a little, you care?" he says, voice becoming angry. 

"Yeah, I do! I trusted Father Hux just as much as you did. Hell, I even invited him into my own home for dinner once. It could have been me in your position, Poe." I say. 

"Yeah, well, it wasn't. And you know what's fucking hilarious? They aren't going to fire him. They are just going to give him a little slap on the wrist and call him a bad boy! Amelia...You have _no_ idea what he's...." Poe trails off, tears swelling in his eyes. 

"If you were me, you would have killed yourself already." he adds after a moment.

"Poe, don't start with that please. It doesn't fix anything. It just passes the pain onto other people." I say, thinking of my mother for a moment.

He's silent, eyes searching me. A long silence grows as he leans against the wall, thinking. I can tell he has so much but so little to say all at the same time. 

"It doesn't matter, my mother is pulling me out of the school next month anyway." Poe adds, quietly. 

"You're leaving?" I exclaim. 

"Wouldn't you?" he snaps.

He was right. I f I were him, I wouldn't be able to stand even looking at the school, let alone the church. I don't know the full story, but I know enough to know that he was violated. He was touched, corrupted, by a man he trusted.

But then again, I _was_ in a circumstance similar to Poe's. The only difference was that I let Father Ren touch me with consent, but Poe didn't. I knew whatever had happened between me and Father Ren was a secret. Nobody could know. He knew that too. 

"Poe, I can't say what, but I understand what you're going through. You can't just let him get away with this." I plead.

Poe looks at the ground, a tear rolling down his cheek. I could see that he was struggling. He was trying to hold onto any bit of life he had left in him. It would take a long time for that boy to heal. What happened to him, it would stick with him forever.

"It's too late, Amelia. That's not how these type of things work. It's never how it works." he says. He pushes himself off the brick wall of the school, sticking his ear buds in, and walking away.

I couldn't even try to stop him. I knew that whatever he was going through wasn't my problem anymore. It was out of my hands. All I could do was sit and watch things unfold. 

Meanwhile, Kylo had different plans. 

Ever since he had eaten your sweet little pussy in the storage closet, you were all he thought about.

He found himself looking around Mass, eyes searching for you. He would think of you while blessing rosary's, or paying visits to the ill in the hospital. Hell, you were the first thing he thought of in the morning and the last thing he thought of before bed. 

He knew what he had done was perverted. A 29 year old priest having sexual relations with a eighteen year old student? He could be thrown out of the ministry for that alone. 

But he also knew you wanted it just as much. He saw the pain in you, how you needed someone to trust for once. He knew he could be that person, get you to trust him so he could get his way. 

But he wasn't all evil. He had morals. He wouldn't touch you if you really didn't want it. He wouldn't intrude on your life if you pushed him away. He wouldn't keep you trapped if you wanted out of what was happening between the two of you. It was just basic respect. 

But there you were, in your short plaid skirt with your long hair, driving him insane. Your voice was like ambrosia to him. Your touch left his skin burning for _days._

And here he was, Sitting in front of your house in his car, at an ungodly hour of the night. 

He wouldn't consider what he was doing "stalking". More like collecting information. 

Your home was a nice little colonial style house in a good neighborhood. There was no part of your life that seemed dark or evil in any way. You were his little innocent angel, and he planned on corrupting you in the best way possible. He'd make his little angel as dirty, vile, slut. 

The window to your bedroom faced the front lawn, but you had your sheer white curtains pulled over. Hw wondered what you were doing. Maybe you were doing homework, or cleaning. Maybe you were writing in your little diary, or taking a shower. 

Or maybe you were touching yourself again, much like you had admit to him in confession. He hoped that you were touching yourself, if you were, to the thought of him. To the thought of his tongue drilling your clit, whining and begging him to stop. He hoped that you wished it was his hand, not yours. 

His cock sprung to life in his black jeans at the thought, filling them. He lets out a small groan, shifting his car seat.

He froze when he noticed a figure walk past your curtain. The lamp in your room shone against the curtain, making anything that passed by it a shadow. 

It was you. 

He watched your shadow tie your hair up. And then, you crossed your arms and peeled your shirt off. It fell to your floor, or maybe carpet, leaving you in your bra. The cups of the bra stood out against your shadow, cupping your full breasts. 

"C'mon..." Kylo whispers to himself, hand starting to palm himself through his now tight and restraining black jeans.

He leans forward over the wheel, watching your hands move to the curve of your back. You leaned your head on your shoulder, your nimble fingers pulling the hooks of your bra. The straps fall down your delicate and soft shoulders, dropping to the ground.

He lets out a small moan when the shadow of your breasts are exposed. 

Your pert and pink nipples harden in the cool air, sticking out like small pebbles against the shadow of your breasts.

He just wanted to wrap his lips around them, suck them until tears ran down your cheeks in sensitivity. He wanted to watch them bounce as you rode his thick and hard cock, your head thrown back and mouth hanging open. 

He watches your shadow move for a moment. You backed up more, exposing your shadow just until the curve of your ass. His breath hitches as you pull down your skirt from your school uniform next, dropping to your ankles.

His palms his cock through his pants harder, moving the heel of his hand against the leaking head of his tip. The fabric of his jeans and boxers are irritating against his cock, but he wasn't here to just play with his cock all night. He was here for something else. 

He watches you slip your panties down your thighs, joining your skirt at your ankles. Your shadow was fully naked now, showing every curve and shape of your body.

He liked that you were a little thicker. He liked how he could grab handfuls of your thighs as he ate you out, or how your large breasts jiggled with every step. Others would view you as gross or not pretty, but he saw you as something far from that. 

He sighs in disappointment as you slip a thin and silk nightgown over your body, concealing you once again. 

Going back to what he was originally here for, he picks up his camera from the passenger seat. He clicks it on, and brings it to his eye, clicking the photo button.

With each shudder of the camera, he takes a picture. He takes photos of your shadow in the window, or the house number nailed to your mailbox by your door. He was collecting information.

All he needed was information on _you._ He knew what your voice sounded like, and what school you went to, and even what your cum tasted like, but he didn't know _you._

He wanted to know about your hobbies, what you liked, what music you listened to. He wanted to know about your family, who your mother is, or your father's name. He wanted to know every little thing about you, he wanted you an open book for him. It made things easier. 

And he was going to, in time. It would be a matter of time before he had you in his trap, putty in his hands. 

And it was going to happen. He'd make sure of that. 


	5. corrupted & unwanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally back! Sorry I was gone for a sec, life got a little chaotic for a moment. Hope you guys enjoy! 
> 
> this chapter is a bit sad and short, but it's needed for the next chapter!

I was in the kitchen making supper when someone knocked on the front door.

I furrow my brows, setting down my jar of spices. I hadn't been expecting anyone and my father was still at work.

"Coming!" I call out. 

I don't bother slipping my apron off, walking to the front door. I unlock it, swinging it open. My stomach drops when I see who's at my door.

It was Kylo.

I hadn't seen him in almost a week. It wasn't because I didn't want to, I just didn't know how to approach him after what happened in that storage closet. I didn't feel ashamed for what I had done, but I had felt the stages of awkwardness. 

And he was wearing normal clothes for once. It felt oddly domestic to see him dressed in black jeans, a white t-shirt, and jean jacket. He looked normal, like he wasn't an older man that worked in a church and had touched a little girl.

"Kylo?" I ask in question. I had never told him where I lived.

He peer's down at me, smirking at me a little. He wet's his lips, his tongue darting out for a moment. "Amelia." he says. He peers over my shoulder and into the house. "Is your father home?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No, he's still at work. I doubt you'll wanna be around when he's back though." I say lowly.

He tilts his head. "Why, child?" he asks.

I weakly smile up at him. "Nothing. Why are you here?" I ask, changing the subject. 

He looks around for a moment. He scans me, pressing his lips into a thin line. Before I can say anything else, he's forcing me into the house and shutting the door behind him. He walks towards me, forcing me to back up into the edge of the kitchen island.

"Kylo?" I whisper, swallowing with wide eyes.

It's like he had become a different person. His pupils were blown wide, stance strong and big. His veiny hands balled at his sides, his Adams apple bobbing. My hands are on either side of the counter, digits gripping it. My chest heaves in anticipation.

He lowers his lips to my ear, still leaving a small gap between us. "Care to tell me why you were gone all week, child?" he taunts. 

I swallow, turning my head to look at him. "I'm sor-" I begin. 

"No, no you aren't. I was left to fist my own cock while you were off doing god knows what. It's a sin to not go to church, child." he says, eyes boring holes into me. 

"I didn't kno-" I start, cut off again.

"You didn't know if I'd still want you? hm?" he inquires.

I slowly nod, looking at my feet ashamed. He raises a hand, his palm and digits wrapping around my throat. A small squeak leaves my mouth, his hand pulling my closer to him by the neck. I look up into his eyes, a small part of me in _fear_ of what he'll do.

His other hand grabs mine, peeling it off the counter edge. He brings my palm to his crotch, letting me feel his cock that's starting to fill through the fabric of his jeans. I let out a small gasp, regretting it as his hand squeezes my neck tighter.

"Is this enough answer for you?" he asks, voice deep and gutteral. 

I nod again. I couldn't help but feel special. He chose _me_ , of all people. He _needed_ me this week, he _needed_ to touch me, breathe me. 

The familiar sound of my fathers car pulling in the driveway startles me. All in an instant, his hands drop from me and he puts two feet between us. I scramble to recover and I stride over to the counter, presuming putting spices on the chicken.

Kylo casually slides in at the table, replacing his physical hunger with a sophisticated look.

Keys jingle in the lock of the door and it creaks open, my father stepping inside. Once he shuts it, he looks between me and Kylo. His brows furrow as he slowly puts his work bag down, hanging his coat on a coat hook.

"If you tell me that this is your boyfriend, you sure as hell be kidding me." he says, boring holes into my head.

My cheeks go red. "N-no! Father, this is ky-" I begin, looking over at Kylo. "Father Ren. The new priest at the chapel." I say.

My father quickly looks over at him, nodding. Kylo stands, offering out a hand. My father takes his hand, shaking it. "Where are my manners, I'm Michael, Amelia's father." 

Kylo makes a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Michael." he says, any sign of his hunger for me gone.

"I'm assuming you'll be staying for dinner?" my father asks.

My head snaps to look at Kylo, my eyes growing wide. Kylo doesn't even give me a glance, but nods with an approving smile. "I'd love to. I've heard Amelia is a wonderful cook, right Amelia?" he asks, looking at me. 

I swallow a lump in my throat. "Yes, well-" I begin.

"She's okay. She didn't get many gifts from her mother, clearly." my father says.

I have to look away, blinking away the tears that brim in my eyes. The kitchen goes silent. It was always like that. The only time my father spoke to me was when he was belittling me, or making fun of me. I don't even think he loves me anymore.

I catch a glimpse of Kylo, who desperately tries to hide the anger in his face. His fists clench at his sides. 

Kylo had never felt more inclined to hit another man. He couldn't stand someone, nonetheless their own father, saying something like that to his little angel. 

"Dinner will be ready soon." I say in a low voice, trying to hide the broken cracks in it. My father says nothing, trailing off into the living room. Like muscle memory, I walk to the fridge, grab my father a beer, and bring it to him in the living room.

As I walk back into the kitchen, Kylo stands, looking at me. He doesn't dare risk touching me, but his eyes say it all. He was trying to read me, understand me. 

"Do- Do you want a beer, Father?" I ask, not meeting Kylo's eyes.

I couldn't. I couldn't let him see into my eyes, see how broken I was. I had to stay strong. I was this little perfect girl that he liked to touch, and if I was to be anything but perfect, he wouldn't want me. 

"No, thank you though. Ministry rules." he says, voice cold. 

"Sorry Father, that completely slipped my mind." I apologize. 

Kylo gves me a small nod, trailing off to join my father in the living room. I can't help but turn my back, letting a small tear roll down my cheek. 

It had all been wrong. Kylo shouldn't be here. I can't let him know anything more about me than what my body looks like. I can't lead him to believe that I'm anything but perfect. He was the one person that saw me as flawless, and him being here will ruin that.

I quickly wipe away my tear, recovering. Soon enough, dinner was being served onto plates and the three of us were seated at the dining table. The light was almost too harsh and the air was too thick. A heavy silence hangs in the air.

I was eating a mouthful of chicken and corn when Kylo asked about my mother.

"When will your mother be home?" he asks me from across the table.

I stop chewing, swallowing painfully slow. I slowly place my fork down, glancing at my father. His face has gone cold, and he's _trying_ to keep his mouth closed. 

"You won't. She...She, um, she passed away three years ago, Father Ren." I say lowly.

The air grows a little tighter. Kylo's eyes widen for a moment, quickly going back to normal. He swallows, eyes flickering between me and his food. I look over at my father. He's angry now, violently cutting his chicken with a knife.

Talking about my mother doesn't really affect me unless it's around my father. He makes her passing all about himself. 

"I'm sorry for your loss, Amelia. I'll pray for you." Kylo says, desperately trying to make eye contact with me. 

That was the last straw for my father. His fork clatters on his plate and he stands up, his chair pushing back fast and making loud screeches against the tiled floor. He looks down at me with a look of disgust. 

"I'm done here. Don't forget the dishes." he hisses, storming off upstairs.

I'm frozen for a long moment. Whatever image Kylo had of me before was surely destroyed now. I could feel my heart sinking into my stomach. It felt like I was going to be sick and cry all at the same time. 

Tears swelling in my eyes, I gather enough courage to look Kylo in the eyes. It's like my rib cage pierces my heart when I look into his eyes. 

It was my last weak attempt of a call of help. My lips and chin trembled and it felt like there was a stone in my throat. I wanted to get out so bad, but I was trapped. I felt so alone and not alone at the same time.

His look said it all. It was like he was silently apologizing and also making a plan to murder my father all at the same time. A vein in the side of his neck sticks out, his teeth grit in anger.

I didn't even know what to say. 

So, I did what I do best. I gathered the plates, and brought them to the sink. I cleaned the plates off and started the tap, filling the sink with water and soap. I was only good for chores and a emotional punching bag, according to my father. So that's what I'd be. 

Kylo stands up, slowly looking around. He grabs his jacket, sliding it back on. He checks his pockets, walking towards the door.

I turn to look at him as he turns the handle. The tears that had swelled in my eyes were now pouring down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, Father Ren." I choke out.

His eyes drop to his shoes. "It was a lovely dinner. I'm sure your mother would have been proud of it." he says, sliding out of the door and shutting it.

I bring my hands out of the sink filled with water, my wet hand clamping over my mouth. I screw my eyes shut, letting out a muffled sob.

And the worst part is, It felt oddly nice for him to care about me like that. Before, It was all just sexual. But now, he cared _emotionally._ It made me feel like he wanted me. Like I was more than a sex object for him. It felt like he loved me for once. 

Oh god, I just wanted him to love me.

I just wanted _someone_ to love me. 


End file.
